


Blood Legacies

by TheEvanuris



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6073621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEvanuris/pseuds/TheEvanuris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old threat thought defeated rises once again. Can the forces of light stand against them, or will the barriers between Oblivion and Tamriel finally shatter, plunging the realm into chaos?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Things To Come

      Keira was woken by a violet explosion. Her eyes shot open as she pushed herself off the cold cobbled street she had no memory of falling asleep on. She had never been here, but she had read enough to recognize the grand structure that marked it as the Imperial City. Although, some of the grandness was lost as the city looked as if it had been torn apart. The once fine pure white buildings were blackened with soot from a startlingly bright violet fire. Some of the larger buildings tumbled down as she looked at them, people screaming as they were buried underneath and the dust swept through the streets. People fled from their homes as the purple flames consumed all, abandoning all that they had in their mad dash to get away from the storm of death that was consuming their city.  
      A horde of people streamed past her, bumping into her as they didn’t bother to try and avoid her. The fear stricken people all ran from the same direction which was the inner part of the city. She pushed against the crowd, curious and yet frightened at what she might find at the center of all the chaos. She finally noticed the sky as another one of the tall buildings simply collapsed, an unseen power making it collapse as if it was blown over by a breeze.  
Keira lowered her arm which she had used to shield her eyes from the dust that had been thrown into the air by the chaos. A hole had been punched in the sky, which stained it deep red. Flashes of black lightening laced the air every few seconds, followed by a deep rumbling thunder that seemed to linger and whisper in her ears. It froze her where she stood, terror racing through her as she stood iin awe of the sight. The evil light emitting from the portal was darkened as an enormous figure emerged from it. It fell swiftly, causing a shattering quake as crashed onto the ground. It was cloaked in darkness, its true appearance hidden to her as its silhouette was the deepest shade of black she had ever seen. Light seemed to disappear as it came in contact with it. The figure rose, its height matching the White-Gold Tower whose stature dominated the sky. The horned, four armed being outstretched its two right arms and struck the Tower swiftly, making the grand monument collapse with a single powerful strike.  
Keira attempted to run to the side of the debris to try and avoid being crushed but her legs seemed to weigh her down, making her movements slow and sluggish. She struggled against her resistant muscles in vain as the remains of the tower fell onto her, her vision going black as she was crushed underneath.

 

    Keira woke drenched in sweat, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to catch her breath. She raised her hand to the candle on her nightstand, the wick igniting as she willed the flame to life. She was still in her room, the soft bedding beneath her now soaked in sweat due to the intensity of her dream.  
It had felt so real, so visceral, she could barely discern it from her waking life. This was the third consecutive night, she thought. It was a reoccurring dream that had been exactly the same each time they had happened. They were vivid and detailed but something set them apart from night terrors she had suffered from throughout her life.  
“Visions,” she said softly, the words barely escaping her mouth. She had had them all her life, some being minor predictions, others being life altering events like the death of her mother. It had been years since she had last had one but something made her feel as if she was right in her assumption. Pain shot through the lacing scars on her back, prompting her to lay back down on the now damp bedding. She regained control over her breathing as a chill came over her. The visions felt eerie to her, as if a herald of things to come. She did not know if it was just nerves or something more but something was coming.

 

   Keira woke in the morning, groggy from having woken up during the night. She grudgingly pulled herself off her bed, knowing it was time for her day to finally begin. The base in which she lived was underground so she had no true way of telling what day it was, except the internal clock within her that almost always woke her exactly at the break of dawn. She donned her scarlet tunic, which contrasted dramatically with her pale white hair and light skin, buttoning it up all the way to her collarbone. She noticed a thin red cut on her neck that she didn’t remember receiving. She traced it with her finger lightly, magic making it disappear before it could form a scar. There’s one less at least, she thought, her mind momentarily turning to the myriad of scars she had received during her training. She quickly put on a pair of dark black pants and a hide belt, quickly slipping into her leather boots before walking out of her room.  
   Keira navigated the long corridors of the compound out of the Royal Wing until she reached the main common area which was bustling with people. They were all wearing deep red robes as was customary in the Mythic Shadow. The large, open, domed room was always well lit with large balls of magical light that hovered far above. The room itself was rather barren in terms of decoration besides the banners that lined the walls and the few marble columns that reached to the ceiling. It was busier than usual she noticed, some of the people carrying scrolls, others weapons, while others were already suited in their armor, their metallic footsteps echoing off the floor loudly. What are we preparing for? She thought as each of the soldiers stopped and bowed to her.  
   Keira made her way up the guarded flight of stairs on the far wall of the room, the heavily armored guards saluting as they parted to let her past. She came to a large pair of heavy doors at the end of a long, steep corridor that led upwards. She could hear several people talking beyond and steeled herself before she threw the doors open and strode in.  
   The War Room was the only place in the whole compound that was above ground, the windows showing an extensive view of the ashen wasteland of what was once Vvardenfell. Even now The Red Mountain still spewed out more ash, making it fall like a light snow over the lifeless wasteland. Keira had spent a lot of time exploring the ruins of the once grand city, using wards to protect herself from the toxic air. That had been long ago however.  
Her gaze went from the windows to the War Room itself, a room in which she had spent much time in lately. The room itself was perfectly round with a domed ceiling, the whole thing seemingly carved from a single piece of stone with no seams or flaws. Harsh red light poured in from the windows, giving the room an ominous look. A massive table sat in the center, a map of all of Tamriel sprawled across it. Three figures stood around the table, in the middle of an argument as she walked in.  
Mother Patrone, stood to the far right side of the table, scarlet robes embroidered with silver trimming. She was an older Dunmer woman, more than a century in age. Her hair was permanently stained black and her intense red eyes were enough to make the strongest willed novice break. She was in charge of melee and magical training, any soldier in the Mythic Shadow was familiar with her harsh and effective training methods. Keira had been trained under as well in her youth. The lessons had come easily for her, easily advancing to the most advanced training that Mother Patrone provided. The only time she had ever seen Mother smile was when she had finished her training, the fastest graduate she had ever had.  
Master Keyleth stood to the left of the table, rubbing his temples in frustration as he sighed. He was older as well, being the oldest member of the Mythic Shadow. He was a High Elf, though he became aggravated at being called anything besides an Altmer. His short golden hair had yet to be touched by the onset of time, his dark gold skin only having a few wrinkles as well. He was the master of histories for the Mythic Shadow. He taught the younger initiates about their past and about the world itself. Keira’s childhood had not always been kind, but she knew Master Keyleth had never been cruel to her. He was kind, if a little short tempered at times.  
Both Keyleth and Patrone had been in the middle of an intense discussion with the person at the center of the war table, Keira’s father; Divine Commander Treylvos Korabane. He had donned his black armor which was layered perfectly with his intricate, blood red robe underneath. Keira’s father was well over one hundred years old, barely showing it by human standards. He was half human and half Bosmer, taking more after his mother than his father, giving him mostly elven traits. He was tall and muscular, that combined with his deep voice and permanent scowl gave him an intimidating presence. He was a cruel, ambitious man, determined to get what he wanted no matter the cost. Keira knew this, and had been trained to be the same way. As the chosen inheritor of the Mythic Shadow, it was her destiny to one day take her father’s place and take what was rightfully hers. At least, that is what she had been taught to believe.  
   “Ever since the Dread Champion hunted down and kill our forebears, we have been planning this attack. To carry out the will of the Mythic Dawn is our right, Keyleth, and I will not be denied. Not now when we are so close.” Treylvos’ voiced boomed out, causing slight reverberation in the room. Keira had been told tales of the Mythic Dawn her whole life. The clan of holy warriors that had once held the world in their hands. Their duty was to unite the world under a single cause until the “Dread Champion of Cyrodiil” had silenced them. She knew it was an exaggeration however. Many years ago she had found a tome in the ashen ruins of Vvardenfell that detailed the Mythic Dawn as they had been in the earlier days. Mad cultists, driven to create chaos. She had confronted her father about it when she first found out several years ago. He had assured her that he had changed them from their previous course. Their worship of Mehrunes Dagon more about tradition than any true devotion. He had explained to her that their true purpose was to create a new world united under a single banner. A world free of the chaos that had plagued the world since its creation. She had believed her father, choosing to take heart in the fact that the cause she would someday stand for was righteous.  
   “I understand, my lord, I simply must advise caution when acting so quickly.” Keyleth responded. It wasn’t often that Keira heard them fighting, though they all seemed on edge as of late.  
Keira walked beside her father, clearing her throat and crossing her arms as she did so to get their attention. “My lady Scion,” Keyleth and Patrone said in near unison, bowing their heads slightly as they did so. Scion of Korabane was one of many titles that she had to wear in her position, though she didn’t much care for them.  
   “Daughter.” Treylvos said, a dismissive acknowledgement as his eyes never left the table.  
   “Are you planning on telling me what is going on what it is you are planning or am I being left in the dark?”  
Her father seemed unphased by her comment, gaze still focused on the map in front of him. “You need not know information that is none of your concern. Luckily for you, this is very much an ordeal that requires your attention. After an eternity of planning, we are ready to let the world know of our presence.” He stood and looked at her, Keira standing several inches beneath him. “And you will lead our first charge, Scion.” Keira’s heart beat faster in her chest now. She had never been in a true battle outside of her training and a few pests she had encountered in the wastes.  
Master Keyleth spoke before she could respond. “After countless years, we have finally located Mehrunes' Razer. It is in the hands of The Blades of Skyrim.” Keyleth straightened his back and met Keira’s eyes. “As you may have just heard, I was advising your father against an organization that A, we know nothing about and B, were the bane of our forebears in the past.”  
   “Our numbers are the largest they’ve ever been. They will not be expecting us, so we can crush them before they can execute an effective response. The Divine Commander is wise, and your complaints are trivial.” Patrone said in the most condescending tone she could muster. Keyleth’s dissent put some doubt in Keira’s mind, but she did have faith in their cause.  
   “I can do this, father.” Keira was confident in her magical abilities, knowing that she was the most powerful out of all of their soldiers. Perhaps even rivaling Treylvos himself. She would lead this assault and prove to them what she already knew, that she was worthy to lead the Mythic Shadow to their true destiny.  
   “It was never up for debate, it had been determined long ago. You will lead them, and you will succeed. It is your fate.” Treylvos strode over to the window, gaze staring out into the red wasteland. “Now go, prepare. I must speak to my daughter. Alone.”  
Keyleth and Patrone left the room, each nodding to Keira one last time.  
   “Is it wise to go over their head?” Keira asked as the door finally clicked shut.  
   “If they are loyal, as they always have been, then they will do as they are told. They know what our mission is.” Treylvos turned to face her. “But there is a reason I wished to speak with you. In the mission you will embark on, you will encounter one known as the Dragonborn. The one who has entombed Mehrunes' Razer. His power will test you unlike any other has before but failure is not an option.”  
   Keira slightly hesitated before she answered. _Dragonborn?_ She had read about the people throughout history that been known as Dragonborn, those who carried the blood of Akatosh himself. They were unmatched in terms of sheer will an power, fate altering at their hands. The doubt fled from her mind as she spoke. “I will not let anything stand in our way. We will bring order, like we are meant to whether or not this Dragonborn opposes us.” She knew that she must do what she must, but she had never taken a life before. Part of herself doubted her own ability to kill but she knew that in the end she would do what was demanded of her. Not that she was would have the opportunity to refuse this mission even if she wanted to.  
   “I know you will not, it is what you’re meant for.”  
The visions returned to Keira’s thoughts before anything else. She had spoke of them to her father before, knowing her father to be the authority on magical anomalies. “The visions I have told you about before, father, they plague me once again.” She explained in detail what her dream had entailed. The destruction of what she believed to be the Imperial City, the ominous figure, anything that she could recall. Treylvos stared past her as she spoke, brow furrowing as she continued in her elaborate description.  
   “Interesting…” He said his voice seemingly distant as he paused to ponder what she had said. “Give them little thought, their fantastical nature sound outside the realms of reality. The mission at hand is your priority. We move at dusk, you must prepare yourself.” His dismissal of the visions were not convincing enough for her to believe. She knew the visions were more than just dreams and her father’s invalidation had her question him  
Keira left the room, vaguely suspicious of her father. Perhaps it was something she had imagined but the way he had handled the topic was odd, as if it had struck a particular nerve in him. She tried to put her doubt aside and prepare herself for the conflict to come, but she could feel the fact that she was being manipulated, thought she didn’t know to what degree. If she had her way, it wouldn’t remain that way for long.


	2. The Blades of Skyrim

   


   The wind at Sky Haven Temple was cold and biting, stinging Aeros’ face as he oversaw the training of new recruits. Dozens of new recruits stood in the now expanded courtyard of Sky Haven Temple, wearing black and gold leather tunics and matching pants as they practiced with dulled blades. Though their new organization was still in its infancy, the diversity of the new recruits had been something Aeros had been particularly proud of. People of all races had come from everywhere to join them, showing that the message Aeros, Delphine, and Esbern had tried to convey had been successful.  
    All were welcome here. Delphine was down in the courtyard, personally training those she could. Her hair whipped wildly in the wind, though it was pulled into a ponytail. It was greyed at the temples, Aeros had noticed. A recent development since when they first had met, the stress of dealing with Alduin, having to deal with the Thalmor at every turn, and rebuilding the Blades had taken its toll on the both of them. Though her stern blue eyes had remained unweathered. She wore a heavy cloak over her Blade armor that she hardly removed. Aeros did the same, the piercing wind having no problem cutting through armor as if it wasn’t there. Aeros could hear her shouting instructions to the recruits even over the howling wind. “You there drop your shield! Or would you rather be gutted in your first battle with someone with even a small amount of wit?” The recruits recoiled as her voice was carried loudly across the open courtyard. Some of the recruits were experienced Imperial or Stormcloak soldiers that grew weary of fighting a seemingly endless war, others were children who were barely old enough to leave their home.  
      Though their numbers had increased dramatically in the last several months the Blades were still too small to match the amount of problems that remained. When he was finished, Aeros would have them be an order in which all of Tamriel could depend on. Alduin lay dead for little less than a year but Tamriel was still tearing itself apart. The Civil War raged on, and there was a growing power vacuum in the south after the death of the Emperor and an Imperial Councilman. The dragons that remained still terrorized Skyrim and some of Cyrodiil to the south. Though with their leader gone perhaps the dragons would respect Aeros’ power enough to be wary of openly attacking anymore settlements. Though if their training continued at this rate, the new Blades might be skilled enough to push the dragons out of Skyrim and return some sense of normalcy.  
     Aeros watched some of the new recruits stumble repeatedly as they practiced, new outfits covered in dust from repeated falls. _Or maybe not,_ Aeros thought as yet another fell to the ground. He allowed himself to laugh at their inexperience, though he hoped none would seem him do it. Slaying dragons at least, would be a job that would still remain almost solely to him.  
     “Grandmaster!” A voice rang out clear through all the noise, a voice he knew belonged to Scribe Jaesa, a small, mousey, Nordic woman who had been one of the first new people to join them. She had short brown hair, and large brown eyes which contrasted kindly with her faint brown skin. She wore the thick black and gold robes that Esbern has begun to wear. They were tight fitting but thick enough to still protect the intense cold. She trotted up to him, her heavy leather tome tucked into her left arm as always. She always seemed to jump at her own shadow and was rather quiet but she was a good friend.  
    “I told you, you don’t need to call me that anymore,” Aeros said through a smile. He didn’t mind titles, but he hated when his friends used them.  
     “S-sorry, it’s a hard h-habit to stop.” Jaesa spoke with a slight stutter, though it was better than when they had first met when it nearly deprived her of her ability to speak altogether. “M-master Esbern and a c-contingent of Mages from the College await you to return the Staff of Magnus.”  
      “Let’s not keep waiting, shall we?” Aeros took the lead as they walked together back to Sky Haven’s proper. He had allowed the College of Winterhold to take the Staff for extensive study. It was rare when the College would come across artifacts of immense power, let alone the Staff of Magnus itself. He trusted them, and as Archmage he knew they wouldn’t do anything to try and betray him. The artifact itself was fascinating, its power was incredible if a bit unstable. He was determined to use it for only dire circumstances however, unless he wished it to disappear as it was known to do. Until a situation arose, it would remain in the vault with the rest of the dangerous Daedric and Aedric artifacts he had encountered were sealed away.    
    Which is why they needed him now as well. Aeros was the only one with access to the vault, the opening mechanism needing a specific magical sequence to open. Aeros and Jaesa walked down the stairs, passing several armored soldiers on their way to the courtyard, their armor clanking loudly as they jogged the stairs. They landed in the main hall, Alduin’s Wall dead in the center with the torch light casting dramatic shadows across the large relief carved into the wall. There were several tables in the main hall, some with Scribes reading or writing lengthy passages in tomes that would then go into the library, others with soldiers polishing their blades or eating, talking with their friends as they did so. Aeros crossed the threshold, going to the left side of the room into the new hall that had been completed just recently. With their growing numbers they had needed to expand Sky Haven, this wing having multiple armory rooms. None of the armories he passed in the wide hallway had doors except for the vault itself.  
    Esbern, now known as High Keeper Esbern stood in front of The Vault talking to Tolfdir, Master Wizard of the College of Winterhold. The old man had several mages with him all of which wore the same novice robes which were given to new attendants. Which was something Aeros was glad to see. “Ah! Here is the Dragonborn at long last.” Esbern said turning to greet him.  
    Aeros nodded to Tolfdir, “I trust all is well at the College my friend?”  
   “Er, yes my lord. Mirabelle Ervine recovering from that rather nasty fall and is making good progress. Besides that I am afraid things are almost boringly uniform.” Mirabelle had been thought dead after her duel with Ancano several months ago, having been blasted off of the College itself. She broke her legs on impact with the water below, lucky to be alive at all.  
   “No new progress with the staff at all?”  
   “Afraid not, my lord. The er, complexities of such a weapon still escape us.” He paused for a moment, looking at the case the staff was in which was being held by one of the mages that had accompanied him. “Thank you for the opportunity to study such a thing my lord, perhaps one day we will crack the magnificence of such a device.” The young mage, a Nord girl with shaggy blond hair, walked towards Aeros holding out the case, a small smile on her face. Aeros took it, folding it under his arm as he nodded to her. “If you’ll excuse us, my lord. The journey back to Winterhold is quite long and we must stop in Markarth soon.” Tolfdir bowed slightly before turning on his heel and walking away.  
   Esbern waited until he was clear out of sight before speaking. “An odd one, that one. There was something uneasy about him. Although that could just be my old suspicious mind.”  
   Aeros laughed. “He’s always been a strange old man. Loyal until the last though.”  
  “Hmm. Suppose that’s all that matters.” Though Aeros had to admit, something seemed off about Tolfdir and his group. “Jaesa my dear we still have much work to be done today, let’s leave the Dragonborn to his magic.”  
    “Y-yes High Keeper.” Jaesa turned, flashing a small smile to Aeros as they departed. Together with Esbern, she walked down the long hall leaving Aeros by himself with the staff.  
    He placed his hand on the round ball that was mounted on the pedestal in front of the vault. He channeled his magic into it, hearing the mechanism inside of the thick metal churn as the magic unlocked it. Had anyone to unlock it without knowledge of the right pattern, their hand would be severely burned. The most powerful weapons in all of Tamriel were stored within, they could not fall into the wrong hands.  
    The two doors that met to form the entrance to the vault slid open without sound, revealing the large round room within. The ceiling was high, a single orb of energy keeping the room lit at all times. All the Daedric artifacts he had ever encountered were sealed away here, each having a unique place in the wall with wards to protect it from outside influences. It had taken a great deal of power to ward them all, to ensure their masters couldn’t reclaim them and deliver them into the wrong hands. He strode into the room walking past each weapon as he continued to the end. There was one vacant slot for the staff, in-between Mehrunes’ Razer and the Mace of Molag Bal. He knew both Daedra were furious with him for their theft, which was almost comical to him. He had deprived them of their most powerful influencers on Tamriel, weakening any evil they could spread.  
    Aeros looked at Mehrunes’ Razer as he placed the staff into its place, the runes inside the encasing glowing as they activated. The Razer was an evil weapon, he often thought it was foolish to collect all three pieces of it just to keep it in one place. It put off an uneasy energy even while it was under guard, some kind of dark presence emanating from it. Spending too much time in here, even with the runes could affect negatively. Aeros thought himself the only one with the constitution to endure radiation of magic emanated from all of the artifacts. Better that he take in all the negative effects than someone who didn’t deserve it. Or worse yet someone who would succumb to barrage of energy from the Daedra.  
    Aeros was lost in thought as the sound of metallic clanging intensified, signaling someone running down the hallway. A soldier in full armor burst in the vault, panting heavily. “I’m sorry to interrupt my lord but Markarth is under attack!”  
    _Who would be fool enough to attack Markarth?_ Aeros thought. “Under attack? By who?”  
   “We don’t know! We heard the magical alarm and the Battlemaster took all the soldiers she could gather and rushed there! She sent me to get you.” Aeros took Dawnbreaker off of the wall nearest to him, the blade glowing brightly as it met his palm. It was his weapon of choice mostly, though he had found himself doing battle less and less lately.  
    “Go and join them,” Aeros said twirling the blade in his hand, “I’ll be there shortly.” He knew a shorter way to Markarth than through the front entrance. The soldier darted off without a second question, metal footsteps echoing loudly.  
    Aeros sheathed Dawnbreaker on his belt then sprinted out of the vault, only stopping long enough to make sure it sealed. He sprinted though the common area, most of the people occupying it either arming themselves or retreating back into their quarters. Aeros took the stairs three and four steps at a time, bursting out the doors into the courtyard in a matter of seconds. The courtyard was completely empty, the rushing soldiers taking the time to throw their practice blades into barrels before rushing off.  
     Aeros sprinted through the courtyard, pushing himself to his fastest speed before leaping off the mountain which made him sail through the air for several feet before the words came to his mouth. “ ** _FEIM ZII GRON_**!” His voice rang out, the effects of the Dragon Shout making him invulnerable as he plummeted towards the ground. He hit the ground running, pushing himself as hard as he can to reach the battle in time.  
  
                            *    *    *   *  
  
    Aeros finally came upon the battle. Smoke pour from a gaping hole that had been punched through Markarth’s walls. Dozens of soldiers garbed in black and red armor poured in through the new entrance, though a field of at least two hundred engaged The Blades openly.  
    “What’s the situation?” Aeros shouted to Delphine over the sound of battle. Shouts and the sound of clanging metal filled the air as the two forces clashed in front of the city.  
    “We’re outnumbered two to one! If they decide to turn and hole up in the city we won’t last!” Blood was splattered across her armor, but she hadn’t taken a single hit as always. It wasn’t the first time they had faced nigh impossible odds together which made Aeros confident in their ability to push this force back no matter how dire it might seem.  
     “Tell them fall back and form a line behind me.” Aeros unsheathed Dawnbreaker and looked towards the battle. During his time with the Imperial Army, he had taken entire cities for the Empire, he knew he could take this whole force himself if need be. “Fall back!” He heard Delphine yell at the top of her lungs, a loud horn sounding a short time after. Aeros ran forward, holding his blade in front of him as the Blades fell back dozens of feet. A few Blades held their ground, shields locking with the Blades of the enemy, making sure they didn’t strike down their retreating brothers and sisters.  
      Aeros took a moment to study the garb of the strange soldiers that had fallen in battle, their armor seemingly modeled after those worn by Daedra. Intricately engraved black armor was interlaced with red underclothing, the chest plate being broken up into multiple pieces which gave it more flexibility. The helmet was similar to a Daedra’s as well, though it lacked the horns and covering over the eyes.  _A cult maybe, but who’s?_ A matter for another time, Aeros decided before turning his attention back to the remaining soldiers outside of Markarth’s gate.  The Blades had succeeded in holding against the superior numbers that they faced, killing many and forcing the several dozen that remained to form ranks around the entrance they had formed in Markarth’s gates.  
    The hundred or so soldiers that remained formed five columns, preparing to charge down at them as their comrades ransacked the city. Aeros looked behind him, the Blades had formed a wall shield about twenty feet behind him, preparing for the charge.  They may had had the advantage at one point, but he had an advantage of his own. One that they couldn’t hope to match.  
   Aeros stood his ground as they began to charge, ground rumbling as their footsteps pounded the ground. “ _Fus,”_ He said, letting the power in his throat build up and waiting until they were nearly upon him before releasing the devastating Shout. “ ** _RO DA_** _.”_ Energy crackled through the air, the words reverberating as the shockwave itself crashed into the army, sending those in the front flying limply through the air. Aeros charged forward into those that remained, the Blades behind him shouting as they charged with their weapons raised.  
    He met a soldier’s blade, deflecting it with ease then lunging forward and stabbing them through the chest, their armor doing nothing as it met his Daedric blade. Aeros danced into the thick of battle, killing a dozen soldiers as they attacked him in vain, their weapons bouncing off of his blade which left them open for a killing blow. The chaotic sound of battle rang through the air for several minutes before the last few soldiers fell. Aeros brought down his sword against the last soldier, nearly splitting them in half as he cleaved through their armor.  
     He wiped the blood off of his face as he lowered Dawnbreaker. The messiness of battle had always been over glorified to him. The Blades wasted no time, already beginning their assault against the invaders in the city. They charged into the smoldering hole that had been blown into the city’s walls, the fury of battle backed by the deaths of their comrades fueled their onslaught against these mysterious invaders.  
   They were impressive, even the new recruits keeping pace with the older Blades.  Though that would likely change once they were in the city. Urban warfare was messy, it was easy to get caught in a bad situation. Especially in a city like Markarth that was filled with steep slopes and clear vantage points for any enemies already in the city.  
   The whole situation was odd to him. Cities being raided were rare, most bandits didn’t unite in numbers great enough to do any damage most of the time. This was something different altogether, they were organized and powerful enough to breach the city, but had no banner signifying who they represented. _Not the first time Daedra have been involved this city,_ He thought, thinking back to all the vileness he had encountered in Markarth. He enjoyed the city when he wasn’t constantly having to deal with Daedra or city wide conspiracies. There was only one time he had had a really peaceful experience in Markarth. Aeros had stayed overnight in the city before just to watch the sunrise. It was a beautiful sight from the elevated architecture that had been carved into the mountain.  
     The smell blood brought him out of the memory, the smell of decay already setting in as the birds began to circle up above. There was a city under siege, every moment he spent waiting around was a moment that could be spent saving a life.  
    He prepared himself for battle as he began to jog towards the smoldering hole in Markarth’s walls, blade in hand and a Shout at the ready for any who would stand in his way. He had nearly reached the entrance when a deafening sound screeched through the whole valley. It took him a short moment to recognize the sound, but he knew it could only be one thing. Sky Haven’s siege horn, designed to signal for help in the rare circumstance that anyone would attack them there. Aeros stopped dead in his tracks, head spinning to look in the direction of Sky Haven Temple. A dark billow of smoke rose into the air.  
   Aeros’ hearted stopped in his chest as he sprinted in the direction of the Temple, he pushed himself as fast as he could as he hoped that he would be fast enough to stop the attack, knowing that Delphine and the Blades could break the siege on their own. If they lost the temple, dozens of defenseless people would be cut down. He prayed he would be fast enough.     


End file.
